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erry Delivered. 



A POEM. 



By JAMES MOORE, M. V., 

AUTHOR OF 

The World's Battle;" "The Life of Washington;" "History of the Great 
Rebellion ;" " The Kimeliad," a poem in three cantos ; " The Shepherd of the 
Wissahickon," a poem in three cantos ; " Kilpatrick and our Cavalry ;" " The 
Centennial," a poem ; " The Triumph of Truth ;" " The City of God ;" " Our 
Redeemer's Kingdom ;" "The Mansions in Heaven;" "Saint Paul;" "The 
Star in the East ;" "Happiness ;" " Divine Attributes ;" "Divine Providence ;" 
"Redeeming the Time;" "The Dream of Life;" "What is Man?" "The 
Necklace;" " Willard Glazier, the Cavalier;" "The Children of Pride;" 
"Redemption;" " The Rival Queens," &c. 



Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1881, by 

JAMES MOORE, M. D., 
In the Offlc* of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
Allen, Lane & Scott, Printers, 

]Sfos. 229-231 South Fifth Street, 

1881, 












PREFACE. 



There are some well-meaning persons, who, because 
I have written many books of the same size as this one, 
call me a poet ; but I beg to remind them that such an 
appellation is not suited to one of my humble pretensions. 
There are few poets — a poet is born, not made. Should 
my book interest any persons, it is gratifying to me, 
and much more so should individuals be profited. It 
has ever been my aim to avoid all controversies, and 
write with an honest intention to do no harm and hurt 
no feelings, and do some good, if such may be, to those 
who honor me with their attention. 

For the favorable reception accorded me I desire my 
readers to accept, both in general and in particular, my 
most grateful thanks ; and I beg to assure them, that, as 
far as in me lies, I am not wanting to myself in the most 
laborious endeavors to render what I write worthy their 
acceptance. 

It is my sanguine hope that my present effort will in- 
terest no small number of persons ; and it is submitted to 
my friends and the public with a wish that it may prove 
advantageous. 

J. M. 



DERRY DELIVERED. 



In former times, those who would go to Derry 

From Coleraine side, must cross upon a ferry, 

Which, later, could be done with far less toil 

When wooden bridge, then stone, had spanned the Foyle ; 

On whose delightful banks this city stands, 

Re-edified, and famous through all lands : 

Not for its grandeur, wealth, or population, 

Nor for its commerce, arts, or elevation, 

High in the social scale; or for its sages, 

But for its siege renowned to endless ages, 

Where truest valor, void of help-defender, 

In famine, sickness, death, cried — "No surrender." 

Lord Antrim's men were sent this town to take, 
But its inhabitants were wide awake, 
And as a parley for awhile takes place, 
Some hopeful youths the gates slam in the face 
Of armed force; and from the ramparts frown 
The bristling cannon to defend the town, 
Whose walls they quick repair and quicker man, 
And thus, the siege renowned at once began. 

This little city held, of various name, 

All sects which truest Protestants may claim, 

Who, differing in this, were well agreed 

To fight for their religion ; and indeed, 

For this, on this occasion, there was need; 

For France, and Flanders, and the world at large, 

Had seen the cruelties which gave the charge, 

(3) 



To valor, matchless constancy, and faith, 
To fight, and valiantly contend till death : 
Ere they would civil liberty forego, 
And their religion ; still a greater woe. 

There lived, some years before, and near Strab&ne, 

A certain worthy, wealthy gentleman, 

One son he had; a virgin daughter fair; 

The son deceased, the daughter was the heir. 

A Catholic and Jacobite was he, 

And yet, esteemed by every degree. 

His lady was e'en more beloved; to see 

His family at home so courteous free, 

Made social life pass on right pleasantly ; 

The youthful maiden practiced every duty, 

Was all so charming, radiant in beauty, 

So innocent, so gentle, and so mild, 

It seemed she angel were if once she smiled. 

But when she spoke, the music of her voice 

Thrilled every raptured heart, and made rejoice 

All sons and daughters too that were of men, 

And soothed the savage beasts in wood and glen. 

The Abbe d'Aubigny, her sage confessor, 

Found her but seldom in the least transgressor; 

Such was her piety, sincere devotion, 

Such were the pains to curb e'en slight emotion, 

Or lightest movement of the heart within : 

Lest e'en the least indulged should prove a sin. 

Her raven curls, luxuriant, overflow 
A graceful neck ; her bosom as the snow, 
Concealed but partially by the thin gauze 
That wrapped it round ; as if by Grace's laws, 
Her easy motions which were yet confined, 
Fit emblems of her dignity of mind ; 
At church, or fair, or gathering, or ball, 
Her charms outvied the fairest virgins all. 



This lovely maiden they called Isabel, 
Eighteen or so ; for I can't certain tell. 

A stranger youth, of noble manly grace, 

On horseback oft rode by and marked the place, 

Where in embowering trees the mansion stood, 

Concealing this enchantress of the wood ; 

And at a party which her parents gave, 

One morning fine they his attendance crave. 

On that occasion where with pleasure he 

Rejoiced in heart this paragon to see, 

Conversed, and by love smitten in the core 

Of his devoted heart, he grieved the party o'er. 

Nor did she less; for love possessed her soul, 

A passion few perhaps can well control. 

This gallant youth e'en then was known to fame ; 

In Flanders had he fought ; Josiah Hart his name ; 

And under William trod the war-like dance, 

That oft repelled the standards of proud France ; 

But now awhile his native Erin sought, 

Reposing on the laurels clearly bought. 

An only son was he of ancient line, 

And wealth and worth, not always joined, combine 

To form in him, with highly cultured mind, 

And courage high, a man we seldom find. 

The party o'er, some months, at watering-place, 
He musing rode along the shore with pace 
Silent and pensive ; till a lady's scream 
Abruptly woke him from his feverish dream; 
Then quick as thought dismounted, cast away 
His upper garments, boots, and plunged in sea; 
Struck out with few bold strokes, the lady caught 
Just ere she sunk, and to the shore her brought 
Within his sinewy arms. Oh ! who can tell 
His wonder, joy? — he saved sweet Isabel. 



6 

One glance was all ; immediate peril o'er, 

He sunk exhausted, fainting on the shore. 

No sense or motion did he there display, 

It seemed as if his spirit fled away. 

Grief filled th' admiring circle, hers the most, 

Who, but for him, had certainly been lost. 

She o'er him bends, as they support his head, 

And on his face a flood of tears is shed. 

As consciousness he gains, his opening eyes 

Regard the maid with wonder and surprise ; 

While her he views, an angel seems to stand 

Just by his side ; is this the heavenly land ? 

What angel form weeps, blushes by his side, 

In gentle murmurs thanks, nor can confusion hide ? 

Conveyed at length unto her father's hall, 

Just by the sea, they strive hard to recall 

His health and spirits ; but can not restore 

That peace of mind which he enjoyed before. 

For love and duty struggle in his heart, 

With her he may not wed, nor can he live apart ; 

The bonds of love the twain together tied, 

Though few the words,their thoughts they could not hide ; 

One fatal barrier as much arose 

Between the two as if they had been foes. 

For love he would not dare his creed to change, 

And on her side this could not seem so strange, 

Since she, by gratitude and love possessed, 

Would never leave her faith, and for the rest, 

The case so stood that each with heavy heart, 

Agreeing still, must differ forced to part. 

And part they did, pursuing different ways; 

However sad, yet is it to their praise, 

'Twas long ere he could his deep grief subdue, 

And she, whether from this or other cause, 'tis true, 

Held fast her creed unto the very last — 

Not long, in one brief year her mortal life had passed. 



Prince William's fleet to England bore away, 

Reached the Devonian coast and landed at Torbay. 

He onward marching reached the capital, 

King James took sudden flight, and then o'er all 

Tho' struggling factions cause the rulers pain, 

The British isle Willia'm and Mary reign, 

While Erin King James owned as monarch still, 

Held by a viceroy that would, can fulfill 

All his commands; Tyrconnel this had shown, 

By making Erin in such sense his own. 

None but a Papist could in army serve, 

Hold office, magistracy, unless he observe, 

Perform and do the enjoined by Popish rite, 

If not, he was oppressed and humbled quite. 

The Protestants were plundered ; rapparees 

Or troops marauding, acting as they please, 

Left property and life quite insecure, 

But these sad grievances they must endure. 

To seize on Enniskillen troops were sent ; 

Resistance bold soon caused them to repent, 

And Derry's sacred walls contained a host 

Of heroes, who will still remain the boast 

Of their descendants, till time is no more, 

Or into ocean sinks the lovely Irish shore. 

'Twas here my hero, acting gallant part, 

Made more renowned the name Josiah Hart, 

For here his ardent breast impelled was tried, 

And here the soil oft with his blood was dyed ; 

Nor shall I leave a hero's name unsung 

Which once called forth the praise of every tongue. 

By day and night his counsel and his sword 
Still helped the brave by many a deed and word : 
Inspiring them with courage to contend, 
And fight it out unto the very end. 
Discordant chiefs he often made agree, - 
Still first in deeds of noblest chivalry, 



8 

Ready in every sally to take part, 

And auimate the soul by warlike art ; 

Assisting wounded comrades and sick, 

Not shunning blows e'en where they fell more thick, 

Nor balls, nor missiles by the foe impelled, 

And often their temerity he quelled. 

His pulse still beat in time with honor's laws, 

And none more valiant aided e'er the cause. 

The traitor Lundy he was first t' unmask, 

But saved his life, although no easy task ; 

And when King James demanded a surrender, 

He shone conspicuous as the town's defender: 

When on the leaguered wall the foe had scaled, 

He caused their death or capture, so they failed. 

Till, finding by assault no progress made, 

The siege still closer turned into blockade : 

And every avenue completely closed, 

The town to dreadful famine was exposed ; 

E'en cross the Foyle, to add yet to the gloom, 

The swarming hostiles cast a mighty boom, 

Strong, vast, extended unto every bank, 

Lined with the tents of many a hostile rank. 

When first the city's gates the foe repel, 
And her surrounding walls, it then befell 
That neighboring towns and villages send in 
Their hardy sons and countrymen, begin 
Themselves for conflict with the foe prepare, 
And with brave Derry's sons war's fate to share. 
Seven thousand fighting men, a hardy race, 
Within the compass of the walls hold place, 
And form as many regiments; chief command 
The valiant Baker holds, and by him stand 
As governor George Walker known to fame, 
And Murry too was prominent, his name, 
With Mitchelborne's will last long as the glory 
Resplendent shines in this great siege's story. 



Opposed the enemy had generals three— 

Persignan, Maumont, and the third was he 

Who traitor to his country proved, and none 

More than this gay Lothario, Hamilton. 

Rosen, a Frenchman then commands the force, 

A cruel savage, of the four far worse 

Than any or than all, for as he trying fails 

To take the city, deeming fear prevails 

To shake most stubborn courage, valor high, 

When with compassion joined, nor will deny, 

In certain circumstances to give way, 

He gives the wall's defenders on a day 

This notice; that collecting all their friends, 

Both old, and young, and every sex, with ends 

To quell the garrison he'll drive them all, 

Like sheep in view, and 'neath the leaguered wall ; 

By famine and distress alike to fall. 

He kept his word, could not their purpose shake ; 

Some perished ; but he other course must take. 

When first the battered walls and houses made 

A dreadful din beneath the cannonade ; 

When dead and dying lay upon the ground, 

Or helpless sufferers from many a wound ; 

The sight was fearful and unwonted too, 

And many shuddered even at the view. 

But none complained e'en when the ranks grew thin ; 

They routed Lundy, nor let King James in ; 

Nor would they yield an inch in any fate, 

Though swarming foes assaulted every gate. 

When famine came, then tallow and raw hide 

These brave defenders as their food provide; 

The crumbling bastions in ruins laid, 

Firm to repair they one another aid ; 

Though on their legs exhausted scarce they stand, 

They such assault repel with valor grand. 

Some, as they aim at enemies a blow, 

In act to strike fall down and are laid low ; 



10 

While the scant grain by mouthfuls is consumed, 

They feed on horseflesh, to eat dogs are doomed ; 

For five and sixpence a whelp's paw will buy, 

And feast on rats, and scrutinizing try, 

Within the houses of the dead to find 

Some meal or food these wretched left behind. 

TV unburied in the streets and cellars lay, 

To these no rites of sepulture they pay, 

Nor can they, weakened and diseased, so weak, 

That many can not move or even speak. 

To add to their more sad extreme distress, 

Of prompt relief from ships afar they guess, 

Seen from the steeples anchoring in the bay, 

But help arrives not, though they sink each day. 

When Lundy governed, Cunningham was sent 

The place to relieve, and here they underwent 

And suffered for the traitor's cruelty, 

Who said the city must surrendered be. 

And it could not by any means hold out, 

For he intended this there is no doubt. 

One diving 'neath the boom meets watery grave, 

One shot, as none could there protection have, 

For batteries frowned and marksmen could sure hit, 

And fell destruction on the assaying lit. 

At length desired relief arrives at last; 
The boom is burst, the ordeal is passed ; 
Three ships sail up the river and convey 
Provisions, plentiful for many a day. 
The famished people thankfully are fed, 
Alas ! they never can restore the dead ; 
But joy arises in all who survive, 
Happy to find the means by which to live; 
The bells ring joyfully in steeples round, 
And gladness reigns, and praises still resound. 
The enemy at night their camp consume, 
T' attack the sacred walls no more presume; 



11 

'Gainst them they had extended all their might, 

Foiled, baffled, they from Derry take their flight. 

Our hero Hart, as on sick-bed he lay, 

Hears their departure, and then this does say : 

" Of all the sieges e'er to history known, 

This famous one is sure surpassed by none ; 

For one and all would suffer to the death, 

And in resistance spend our parting breath, 

Ere we our faith and liberty forsake, 

None here will bend, even if so they break." 

Thus Derry was delivered from her foes ; 
But none need from this circumstance suppose 
The war was ended; for two kings to reign 
Over one nation were idea vain. 
Religious war was kindled, and its traces 
Are scarce extinct e'en now in many places ; 
There was indeed besides a war of races, 
For Celt and Saxon could but ill agree, 
Though equal in their deeds of chivalry. 
A finer than the Celtic-Irish race 
Ne'er on this planet ever held a place, 
Or braver fought when circumstances join 
To drill and arm and make them to combine ; 
And braver men than Irish-Saxons never 
On earth appeared, nor will perhaps forever. 
They should have been united to have made 
A nation whose bright fame should never fade ; 
Where different creeds exist, still let them prove 
A perfect unity of mutual love ; 
If one prefers the mass, let not the other 
Cast ill reflection for it on his brother, 
But all unkindly feelings instant smother. 
For peace on earth and unto men good-will, 
Is what's intended by the Saviour still, 
And he that swerves from this will never see 
The face of God throughout eternity, 



12 

But go to hell in devils' company. 

So deemed our hero, who, with better food, 

Regained his health and firm on his feet stood. 

And, to be brief, in some few weeks at most, 

He found another love for her he lost, 

And Hymen crowned a pure and mutual flame, 

The Lady Arabella was the name. 

She was a Presbyterian and a wife 

That was her husband's joy for all his life: 

Their marriage in Cathedral church took place; 

From them descended a fine numerous race. 

The happy pair set sail ; in London's port, 

They duly land and hasten on to court ; 

King William then at Kensington abode, 

Whitehall he never liked, it did no good 

To his but feeble and uncertain health, 

But Hampton Court he loved ; on it his wealth 

And no small pains he ceased not to expend, 

'Midst trees, and gardens, flowers without end. 

With this intent he kept it still in view, 

And still reminded him of favorite Loo. 

The queen was with him, and they both receive 

With cordiality, we may believe, 

The happy pair, and much of Derry ask, 

Whose siege to tell of was a pleasant task ; 

And Hart such scenes was fitted to relate, 

As he had served with William till of late. 

The King most gladly listened ; it was much 

To his advantage that his friend knew Dutch. 

Duke Schomberg England now prepared to send 

With numerous army such as soon may end 

The Irish war; and under his command 

He offers Hart a colonelcy with a bland 

Gracious smile; he this begs to decline, 

And says : l< Let post indefinite be mine, 

To serve with the same rank and service best 

Wherever my poor aid's more fittingly addressed." 



13 

Thus unattached he joins this mighty host 

Of well-appointed troops, and lands on Erin's coast, 

He shared the dangers and privations here 

With which the veteran of many a year 

Contended with a series of mischance, 

'Gainst which the bravest could make no advance. 

The town of Carrickfergus Schomberg took, 

To Lisburn then, and passed through towns whose look 

Was desolation ; all the place forsook. 

And many a mile, no man, or sheep, or cow, 

Or cornstack to be seen, but all abandoned now. 

When through this wilderness at last they stand, 

Where William's forces later ; Loughbrickland. 

Through deserts on toward Dublin is his route, 

Newry was smoking ashes which in doubt, 

T' encounter him the Irish had destroyed ; 

Carlingford they too had made a void. 

While Schomberg marches thus through desert waste, 

The Irish force assembles in great haste, 

And on Drogheda's tower the breezes fan 

The royal banner; 'neath which every man 

Hastes to the rendezvous both foot and horse ; 

The last were good, the infantry far worse. 

Some twenty thousand zealous for their king 

Were there, and with camp followers who bring 

As arms, scythes and pikes, and some had skeans, 

A kind of dagger is what this word means. 

One long day's march between the armies lay, 

A battle might take place at early day ; 

A battle pitched, such was the common talk, 

For Schomberg's forces had now reached Dundalk. 

On both sides all who nothing knew of war 

Wish for a fight at once, whose notions jar 

With those of military skill possessed, 

Who know that rashness is by no means best. 



14 

Rosen well knew his men were not prepared, 

And all that had experience this declared ; 

Worse drilled, worse officered could no one see 

Than were the ill-equipped Irish infantry ; 

In this predicament he did not lack 

T ' advise King James on Dublin to fall back, 

For battle lost would be the loss of all. 

Athlone would suit ; the difficulty small 

The passage of the Shannon to defend, 

Till the French succors needed could attend. 

The Irish and Tyrconnel this oppose ; 

Their blood was up, and so they will have blows ; 

And royal James is pleased to let them know 

He will not yield his capital without a blow. 

It soon appeared that Schomberg would not fight ; 

No doubt he judged what was just and right; 

His force was raw, collected from the fields, 

Such has no confidence and ready yields. 

Such discipline require for no short space, 

And hardship fits the soldier for his place. 

Besides, the troops were very ill supplied, 

For which same reason many later died. 

The commissary was an arrant rogue, 

To cheat in everything was then in vogue ; 

And this vast army, raised at great expense, 

Was scant indeed of even sustenance. 

Conspiracy was too within his lines, 

But vigilance their wickedness divines ; 

(Some six are hanged, two hundred more are sent 

To England ironed, and the rest repent. 

A muster soon was held, the ranks look thin, 
Amongst the troops disease has entered in ; 
Autumnal rains and copious floods descend, 
Nor will the huts the soldiers right defend ; 
In marshy situations cold they lie, 
Malaria seizes most and many die, 



15 

While those who live no energy display, 

Their faculties e'en seem to feel decay ; 

The voice of wicked blasphemy is heard, 

An oath is uttered at almost each word. 

They curse, and sing, the devil's health they drink, 

The cup goes round, ere day is closed they sink 

In death's embrace ; their comrades for a stool 

Their bodies use to sit on ; what a school 

For troops whose foes are not at distance far ! 

" How awful ! " Hart exclaims, " the scenes of war !" 

'Gainst these calamities the general right, 

And truly judged it was no time to fight. 

But soon by discipline, and health, and food, 

His men, inured to drill, were soldiers good; 

Aimed at a mark with care and due precision, 

And moved to action with a firm decision. 

Had James' troops been drilled as well as these, 

Or had he stopped marauding rapparees, 

He might have held a longer lease secure, 

Which soon to lose he was indeed, too sure. 

The Irish troops were given much to pillage, 

Plundered, destroyed, in every town and village; 

The officers neglected to impart 

The instructions needed and the simplest art; 

When one shot fired they throw away the gun, 

Cry " quarter," " murder," as away they run ; 

By coward King and officers undone. 

The officers were not all alike, none more 

Courageous ever military office bore, 

Than gallant Sarsfield, hero known to fame, 

And ever honor to the Irish name. 

King James was far too stupid to divine . 

A hero's worth where manly graces shine. 

James reigned in Dublin for about a year ; 

His legislature truly does appear 

By far the worst in Erin's annals known ; 

The thoughtful will it study with a groan. 



16 

But few who prate of Erin and her cause, 
Know much about her history and laws, 
And those who James' Parliament forebode 
May e'en have cause to bless the penal code, 
On which reflecting, casting e'en a look, 
We all abhor ; disgraceful statute book. 

Mighty events are now about to come, 
Fraught with the freedom fair of many a home. 
King William comes to put unto the test 
Who should three kingdoms rule, and lay at rest 
In peace the dreadful state of bloody war, 
Urged on by fiends, appalling near and far, 
Which more than once his very throne did threat. 
Around him still did many a traitor wait, 
Who ate his bread, enjoyed the nation's wealth, 
And drank his ruin in full many a health. 
He now resolved his person to expose 
On bloody plain encountering war's woes, 
Periling his throne, perhaps his very life, 
Leaving .the regency unto his wife. 
A well-appointed army he conveys, 
Lands on the Irish coast, where he surveys 
The state of things, and puts all things to right, 
Determined almost instantly to fight, 
And when his forces from all quarters join, 
He fronts the Irish lines divided by the Boyne. 

This river flows between two counties fair, 

Its banks are covered by rich verdure rare; 

To east is Drogheda, the bridge of Slane 

Lies west some miles, the whole a pleasant plain ; 

About the middle Oldbridge ; on the other side, 

Scarce two hundred feet the foes divide. 

In Lowth to north the force of William stands ; 

In Meath the army which King James commands ; 

The English force is thirty thousand men, 

From various lands of mountain, city, glen, 



17 

And Protestants contending for the right, 

And Catholics 'gainst them are ready for the fight; 

Somewhat inferior in number these, 

But strongly posted who may fight at ease. 

King James the hill Donore has occupied, 

Ten thousand valiant troops are by his side ; 

The rest ill disciplined, of no account, 

At least they seemed but little to amount, 

But partially concealed some regiments lay, 

That did good fighting on the battle day. 

To cross the river William now intends, 

And to the bridge of Slane detachment sends 

The enemy to flank on the right wing, 

But these opposing force to this point bring. 

Meanwhile at Old bridge to defend the ford, 

A heavy force is left and all explored, 

The foe when crossing quickly to repel, 

And not presaging what so soon befell. 

A cannon-ball had William's shoulder bruised ; 

Of blood some ounces from the wound effused ; 

But plastered, dressed, again he mounts to go, 

To animate his men against the foe, 

And seventeen hours he still the saddle kept, 

Ere he retired or rested, much less slept. 

Duke Schomberg held the centre, on the left 

King William ; soon the first, bereft 

Of life, was shot in crossing this famed river, 

And his renowned career ended forever. 

The men press on and put the foe to flight ; 

Many fought faintly, or e'en fled outright ; 

But William charged where some a stand had made ; 

Opposed is force they cast into the shade. 

The craven contest where those first gave way, 

Disgracing thus the Celtic race that day. 

But William's valor over all prevailed, 

The foe was beaten, all his vigor failed ; 



18 

Their king had ta'en to flight, they ran away, 

And choked the passage of Du leek that day. 

They never ceased to run, till Dublin saw 

The troops disordered pause a breath to draw. 

The victory was complete, on left, and right, 

And centre too, there was no foe in sight. 

While fighting bravely by King William's side 

Our hero fell, the blood in crimson tide 

Rushed from a gunshot wound, the ball remained 

Imbedded in the fascia, and pained 

The valiant hero as on earth he lay, 

Expecting this to prove his latest day. 

When carried on a litter to the rear, 

A skillful surgeon bade him " not to fear, 

Because/ 7 says he, " there's nothing fatal here ; 

'Tis but a flesh wound and th' artery's safe, 

And I will promise you a quick relief." 

The forceps then he skillfully applied, 

And sought the ball imbedded in his side ; 

He felt it there, and finding it exact, 

By gentle traction brings it forth intact, 

Closes the orifice with ready art, 

Administers what may relieve the smart, 

And after dressing leaves him to repose, 

While sleep relieves him of his heavy woes ; 

And in a week or two recovery came, 

He sits, or walks, or rides just all the same, 

Escaping happily with but slight scar, 

Just to point out what dangerous play is war. 

Schomberg, and Caillemot, and Walker fell 

On this eventful day ; it had been well 

If this new bishop had to pastures led 

His scattered and thin flock, and gently fed ; 

For carnal weapons, and art militant, 

Do not become, but spiritual, a saint; 

When Peter cut off Malchus' ear, the Lord, 

Reproving, told him to put up his sword, 



19 

Though several regiments inglorious fled 

Without a shot or blow, now at their head 

The Irish cavalry were valorous led, 

And Richard Hamilton in desperate fight, 

Tried to regain the day in James' right. 

The river's bed the scene, they oppose the Blues, 

Drive back the Danish troops, courage infuse 

In one another Huguenots t' repel, 

And in this charge brave Caillemot there fell. 

Then Schomberg without cuirass rushed in stream, 

They quick surround and make an end of him. 

At the same instant Walker too was shot, 

Inspiring Ulster's sons in battle hot. 

For half an hour the fight on southern shore 

Was smoke, and dust, and din of battle roar, 

Old soldiers said they sharper work ne'er saw; 

'Twas then King William did the left wing draw ; 

The ford was difficult, the running tide, 

The muddy bottom, made it hard to ride, 

He reached the bank, his sword in his left hand, 

The right disabled ; in vigorous charge and grand, 

His men he boldly led where balls fell fast, 

Where fight was fiercest, and he won at last ; 

For though the Irish horse like lions fought, 

Their utmost valor now he set at nought, 

And obstinately fighting they retire, 

Performing all true courage could require. 

The vanquished side lost fifteen hundred men, 

The victors but a third of these were slain. 

This contest proved decisive, it was known, 

To settle William firmly on the throne. 

Confusion seized on all within the capital, 

When news of this discomfiture and all 

The details reached it ; and the coward James 

Reproached the Irish with the vilest names. 

" He would not more on Irishmen depend, 

He for himself would shift, and they to the same end," 



20 

Ungrateful man ! to wonder at the event 
Which his own folly caused ; and not content 
That troops undisciplined in arms should flee, 
Or ill resist the shock of warlike chivalry. 

While discord reigns, the Irish chiefs divides, 

And at St. Germains the viceroy decides, 

On seeking from the King authority, 

While Berwick now commands, and in turn he 

Finds opposition and is thwarted,- sad 

And sullen too, perhaps he was but glad 

At his recall, which very soon took place, 

St. Ruth being sent to put a better face 

On all aifairs as warrior renowned ; 

But his command no sinecure was found, 

For ill supplies and disappointment made 

The troops impatient, and in deepest shade 

Tyrconnel shut himself from public's sight, 

The men requiring food insisted on their right. 

Their spirits rose when supplies and arms were brought, 

St. Ruth and D'Usson his lieutenant sought, 

Though holding in contempt the Celtic race, 

To make them soldiers and stand firm in place. 

With Ginkell's force that now reached Mullingar, 
Hart now surveyed the preparations of war ; 
They took and fortified then Ballymore, 
And next, Athlone, thy walls they stood before, 
Which fortified, the Shannon's stream divides, 
Leinster and Connaught on its different sides. 
A narrow bridge, a castle and a ford, 
Our Hart's well-practiced eye had soon explored, 
The English cannon swept the bridge, and soon, 
When a stern conflict deadly too was done, 
One portion of the town the victors seize, 
To take the rest could not be done with ease, 
For on the river's bridge two mills appear, 
Commanded by the castle's guns, and here, 



21 

A valiant few an army might defy, 

And hence the fort that guards the ford they try, 

Raise batteries and with fierce cannonade, 

The castle's side, one mill, were ruins made ; 

For days the fight upon the bridge goes on, 

Small progress made, and inch by inch 'tis done, 

Not few were slain, yet fought on undismayed, 

The brave defenders waiting early aid. 

St. Ruth had deemed the English fire would fail 

The place to take until the rains prevail, 

And make their camp around a very swamp, 

Such as did Schomberg and King William's damp, 

And now the ford they are resolved to try 

Which by the Irish was held carelessly, 

Full fifteen hundred select grenadiers, 

Are mustered on the banks, and each man bears 

Upon his hat as at the Boyne a bough, 

And thinking on their King, ford Shannon now. 

Reaching the opposing bank the place they take, 

The garrison surprised does no resistance make; 

The news being spread St. Ruth fills with dismay, 

And mortified, by night retreated towards Galway. 

Where ruined Castle Aghrim towers once rose, 
He pitched camp and here awaits his foes. 
Well chosen was the place; round sloping hill 
By bog almost surrounded at his will, 
His ardent troops throw up a barricade 
And wait the foe quite steady — undismayed ; 
Their general was a zealous Papist, he 
His troops at first had treated rigorously, 
But now caresses gain the hearts of all 
And animate their courage; at his call 
The priests are present, help him to sustain 
His grand resolve by means but seldom vain. 
They preach, and pray, the host they solemn rear, 
Addressing ardent words that banish fear, 



22 

And swore them on the eucharistic bread 

Their standards to maintain and fight till dead. 

The general then a last appeal did make, 

In words that failed not courage to awake, 

To fight for their religion, liberty, and honor's sake. 

Forth from his camp now pitched at Ballinasloe, 

Four miles from Aghrim with their general go, 

Our Hart and other officers to explore 

The enemy's position ; then no more 

Than one night intervened till ready all 

Were twenty thousand men on foes to fall, 

Though by five thousand their force was more small. 

Deep in the marsh th' unsteady footsteps sank, 

And fierce the struggle of each hostile rank, 

Assault, repulse, repulse, assault again, 

The Celts victorious ; Ginkell thinks it vain 

Longer against such valorous troops to strive, 

And meditates retreat ; St. Ruth alive, 

With flattering hopes inspired, waves hat in air, 

And to the gallants who his ardor share 

Cries: " Ours the day, my boys, the day is ours, 

We'll drive them on like sheep to Dublin's towers ;" 

Then laughed to see the Blues, but two abreast, 

Advance on ground excluding all the rest, 

While every now and then sinks gallant crest. 

But, soon the ground with hurdles is o'erlaid — 

Such pathway have I seen in Carolinas made, 

When Jordan led his men the swamps across, 

And now the English troops with little loss. 

A broader, firmer path admit the ranks, 

Which closing up the hostile army flanks. 

While brave St. Ruth has fallen to the ground 

Slain by a cannon-ball ; his severed head is found, 

Wrapped in a cloak and carried they convey 

In secret to the ruined monastery, 

And lay the hero's corpse in old Loughree. 



While, meanwhile Sarsfield holding the reserve, 
Ignorant of his fall, his orders must observe, 
Without command must never leave his post, 
And thus the heroic troops the battle lost. 
Four thousand corpses counted on the plain, 
And loss of other thousands also slain, 
Proved that the Celt in this last deadly fight 
Had courage, constancy, and power and might : 
That plain was fearful sight, alas ! to see, 
'Twas deadly struggle for life, and liberty, 
And gave their valor such high sad renown, 
As hurls back with contempt the sneer and frown, 
That foreign lands e'en in that very day 
With ridicule had cast against their bravery. 

Our hero had to Limerick set out 

With William, where 'twas thought there was no doubt 

The remnant of the Irish army soon 

Which thither went would yield ; and so be done 

The whole campaign and Erin pacified ; 

On this too sure the victors had relied : 

Without siege guns the capture could not be, 

And William sent to bring the artillery; 

But gallant Sarsfield seized them by a raid, 

The men that guarded it he captives made, 

And thus the city proved too hard to take, 

While rains, the English camp but marsh make ; 

Sickness ensued ; the ranks waxed very thin, 

To lose his army William's fears begin, 

Good to his men we must that virtue praise, 

Determined once, he now the siege does raise. 

Our hero still with GinkelPs force remains, 
To aid the men he tries and with great pains, 
Again they Limerick with hosts surround ; 
Where Irish valor yet the glory crowned ; 
And Sarsfield shines as some bright, glorious star, 
Resplendent in the frowning ranks of war. 



24 

Nor can the city now the force resist 

Which batters, storms, assails it, or exist ; 

Worn out with numerous horrors, it must cease, 

The unequal strife, surrender, and have peace. 

And this took place on honorable terms, 

While most to France by choice transfer their arms. 

When Hart beheld so many valiant men 

Their country leave no more to see again, 

It made him sad ; but now the war was o'er, 

He hopes for peace upon his natal shore. 

And soon his wife he brings, whose glad embrace 

The traces of much sorrow could efface. 

His brow had not a wrinkle, in his heart 

Was perfect peace ; and while every art 

His lovely Adelaide successful tried, 

To make him happy ; nor can it be denied, 

A woman can her husband happy make 

If hard she tries and only pains will take ; 

A numerous progeny, in time, cements 

Their mutual love, and each of them assents 

To what the other may chance to request, 

They moved harmonious and were truly blest. 

Nor could they share, nor did they see a need 

To be intolerant to another creed, 

And often Hart would pause and after say, 

When he inclined to move from grave to gay : 

" My dear, my love, my pearl, and my life, 

How near I was in taking for my wife, 

A Catholic — and wedding Isabel ;" 

Then oft a tear unto her memory fell, 

Nor did his wife e'er chide, but loved him more, 

And thought him Protestant more than before. 

" For goodness," she would say, " wherever found 

Is not indigenous to earthly ground, 

And we should value every plant of grace, 

The Father's right hand planting, and in every place." 



0/)/ 



ERRY UELIYERED. 



A POEM 



By JAMES MOORE, M. D., 

AUTHOR OF 

The World's Battle;" "The Life of Washington;" "History of the Great 
Rebellion ;" " The Kimeliad," a poem in three cantos ; " The Shepherd of the 
Wissahickon," a poem in three cantos ; " Kilpatrick and our Cavalry ;" " The 
Centennial," a poem ; " The Triumph of Truth ;" " The City of God ;" " Our 
Redeemer's Kingdom;" "The Mansions in Heaven;" "Saint Paul;" "The 
Star in the East;" "Happiness;" "Divine Attributes;" "Divine Providence ;" 
"Redeeming the»Tirne ;" "The Dream of Life;" "What is Man?" "The 
Necklace;" "Willard Glazier, the Cavalier;" "The Children' of Pride;" 
" Redemption;" " The Rival Queens," &c. 



Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1881, by 

JAMES MOORE, M. D., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
Allen, Lane & Scott, Printers, 

Nos. 229-231 South Fifth Street. 

1881. 






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